I Must Agree With Hamlet
by TapTapAlways
Summary: Or "The Tale of The Bored Writer"; This is a modern Merlin AU where Arthur is a Prince in one of the last places where that really means something politically. He is also an excellent painter. Merlin is the model Arthur's parents hire to get their son out of a bit of a creative low, but that is only the beginning...
1. Prologue

_Here comes the prologue of "I must agree with Hamlet (being a prince is rough)". Also known as "The Tale of the Bored Writer" previously._

 _I claim no ownership of "Merlin", no copyright infringement is intended; this story is just for fun._

 _TapTap_

Arthur was born a prince. Now this might not have been exactly what it had used to be in most kingdoms, or, indeed, anywhere, but in Albion, which still was only a partial democracy, where more than half of the power of govenment still rested with the king, it was less of a formality than it would have been anywhere else.

Having grown up in Camelot, the capital city, with his father King Uther (strangely affectionately nicknamed "the Stern", by their people) and his mother the Queen Igraine (even more affectionately called "the fair") Arthur had spent a large portion of his childhood isolated from both other children and the real world.

He had been taught, of course, all sorts of things. From languages to politics and everything in between, but until he had run headfirst into the son of one of the knights, a boy a few years older than he was, called Leon, he had only known of the concept of friendship from books. Well, that and his older halfsister, Princess Morgana, from Uther's first great love, a relationship which had never led to marriage.

Arthur's father had been fair but stern, his mother loving, Leon helpful and his sister mischiveous, and he had managed to grow up without being a spoiled monster, but he was nevertheless quite arrogant in his teens. Then Arthur went on to university, studying a variety of subjects in a variety of different countries, doing diplomatic work as needed on the side and finding friends who didn't always know who he was when they first befriended him.

Now, in his late twenties, he had grown into himself somewhat, and, having found some more friends while at university, he kept most of his teasing to the subject of Leon and Morgana's growing romance. And neither one of them could have cared less about a little brother's jesting, so it was all fine.


	2. Being a Prince Is Rough

_Chapter one of "I Must Agree With Hamlet (being a prince is rough)". I claim no ownership of "Merlin", no copyright infringement is intended; this story is just for fun._

 _TapTap_

Arthur sat by the window trying to use the last of the really good light to capture the final details of the scene in front of him. Sometimes, his friends were spread across the world, but mostly, the wast majority of them were in Camelot at any given time, though only a few of them were natives.

He had studied art, for example, at a university in France, of all places, when he had met Galahad, who was a very talented pianist.

It was Percival and Lancelot who were now at the door, awakening Arthur from his musings and tearing his eyes away from the the snowy courtyard outside.

Percival was his first new friend, not studying but applying for a spot in their native garde, then he'd met Lancelot, run into him in the corridors of his own home one Christmas when he'd come back with Guinevere for the holidays. Gwen had been Morgana's best friend since the girls were eight and went at boarding school together, after Morgana's mother had died.

She had only been there a few months, words having been slow to reach King Uther that his ex-lover was dead. After that, Morgana had gotten to move to Camelot, and live with them in the castle. She and Gwen had stayed in touch and, both Gwen's now fiance Lancelot and her brother Elyan were great friends to Arthur.

Freya, he had run into during a semester at Reykjavik, where he had studied politics and she had been doing her engineering degree. Upon finishing, she had come joined them in Camelot, becoming knighted the year after.

It was a very old tradition, that the Crown Prince had to be surrounded by a group of Knights, and it remained important, thought the rules for said group of Knights had shifted dramatically. They no longer had to be men, born of noble families out of Albion. In the end, Arthur made friends that mattered to him and cared for him, and those who proved to stick around were knighted eventually, so that the tradition was kept up.

Traditionally, the group was a protective force, but this, as well, was given up - there were bodyguards for that sort of thing, after all.

Arthur would have, in fact, welcomed the presence of bodyguards a bit more around especially Gwaine, who could be a menace, and also from his sister, who was almost patologically stubborn.

"You alright, Arthur?" Lance asked him with concern. "You've been up here for hours now!" Leon, knowing him for far longer, after all, would possibly not have asked, but it usually took a decade or so for people to give up on him. Not counting his sister, who never gave up, just regrouped.

"Yes. It is the snow" Arthur gestured vaguely in the direction of the window and the courtyard outside, making very pretty scenery, and then went back to his painting, capturing the very last of the light. With an eyeroll, Lancelot told him "well, when the light goes, come down have dinner with us, will you? Your sister and Gwen tends to team up, you know, and I might get into trouble. I think Leon would agree..."

Absentmindedly, Arthur nodded, and like the excellent friends they were, they left him alone. Half an hour later, tired and with splatter of paint still on his hands, Arthur joined the King, Queen, Princess and some very selected members of the court in the small dining room, quite ready to once again be the dutiful son.


	3. Two Of Us (In Need of Something New)

_Here we have frustrated painter Arthur in need of a muse... Part of it is Merlin's POV, as we meet him for the first time. I claim no ownership of "Merlin", no copyright infringement is intended; this story is just for fun._

 _TapTap_

Arthur tossed yet another broken paintbrush into the unlit fireplace. He was normally good with all kinds of nature scenes and made beautiful (or so his mother said) paintings of inanimate objects in empty castle halls, but now they were not agreeing with him at all.

He enjoyed painting most things, and people, most of all, but his friends rarely had even half the patience to sit for him that he would have wanted them to, and none of them were models in any way. Well, except if you counted all the posing for photos Morgana had had to do ever since she turned twelve, that was.

With a sigh, Arthur closed his eyes and let out a long, deep sigh. He had many duties, and had spent lots of time in different circumstances, but he always painted every day, it was as much of a constant to him as his everpresent royal duties.

He wasn't having a huge, creative meltdown. No, nothing even half as grand (or old) as that. He was just bored. Well, that was a problem. Problems, by definition, had solutions, as things that were wrong could be made to be right, or they weren't either, they just were.

He could go up into one of the cottages on the mountainside, do some drawing from memory, in solitude, that usually relaxed him. He could make another change of scenery, too, he supposed. His parents were already worried about his mood and would happily send him off for a week or two to any location in the world, if he said it'd help him.

Sitting down, Arthur decided to focus. Start at the beginning. What was bothering him? Well, that one was obvious, at least. Things didn't turn out like he wanted, probably because he didn't find anything really good to paint, and merely "interesting" wasn't doing it for him lately. Everyone had days and weeks like that.

Alright, he decided, so what did he _want_ to paint? People, movement; his mind supplied immediately. Yet, he realised a moment later, that wasn't really it. He wanted to study, like he usually did, only, inanimate objects weren't what his eyes were drawn to right now. Well, that wasn't all that difficult to solve, really.

He would need a model; an actual one that could actually pose for him, until he was done with this little artistic sulk, he concluded. Surely, that could be arranged, couldn't it?

* * *

Merlin sat down, blearyeyed and sleepy, in front of his desk, which held his laptop. He was _sick and tired_ of posing in strange circumstances and as a kroki model, but his agent was silent,. There simply were no decent jobs coming through, no actual, classy modelling wanting him, so he had to make do somehow.

Opening up his email, he realised a professor in arts of a sister university from one he had previously worked for briefly as a model for various groups of art students had emailed him.

He read the somewhat odd message, frowned, and called the requested number, only to find out that it wasn't to an university at all, but the royal court of Albion, one of the last functional monarcies in Europe.

A bit shocked, he finally managed to introduce himself, and promptly found himself with an offer to model for their Prince. Invardly groaning, he asked for time to think about it and was given a day, then they rang off.

A Prince. Who probably hadn't touched an easel in his entire life and now decided it was cool, and would likely leer at him and... Merlin shuddered. The worst part was, that he hadn't gotten a new job in five weeks and his lease on his flat was running out anyway, so he had no excuses to decline. Not to speak of the connections he could make in a place like that... and he really needed the job, too. Merlin groaned. He really would have to go, wouldn't he?


	4. Meeting You

_More Merlin! And here is the long-awaited meeting of Merlin and Prince Arthur. I claim no ownership of "Merlin", no copyright infringement is intended; this story is just for fun._

 _TapTap_

Merlin swallowed as he stepped into the palace which was to be his home for the forseable future. The job he had finally accepted had no end date but a simple "as long as the Prince wishes", so he had no idea when he would eventually leave again. Everyone knew that King Uther's requests were only (for the moment) polite orders, and that you simply obeyed them, if (when) they were given, and while this was somewhat less well-known outside of Albion, it was an easy fact to find out. Merlin was more than a little apprenhensive about both the terms of and the sheer grandness of his new environment.

As he was lead first to the rooms where he would be staying (they were nice, but then again, it was a castle) and then the studio where he was to meet the prince, he was surprised to see the well appointed, clearly well used studio and well-loved painting supplies.

It was with some relief that Merlin walked around the space, awaiting the Prince. Despite what he had been fearing, this was a true artist's studio, not some spoiled brat without a clue, not even one born to parents with a lot of resources.

Merlin turned around at a sudden cough behind him, and was greeted by the sight of the well-known face of the Prince of Albion. "Hello" said Prince stepped towards him, reaching a hand out to shake his with the easy ease of someone who was not only very confident in their own skin, but immensely used to meeting new people. "You must be Merlin. I am Arthur Pendragon". "Hi, eh... Prince Pendragon" Merlin replied, blushing. How could he not have researched how to address Princes before this?!

Arthur laughed. "Arthur is fine. There is protocol for formal occasions, and if you ever meet my father, it is 'your majesty'. Also if he is in the room, you address me as 'Prince Arthur'. Otherwise, we dispence with the titles, at least in here". Arthur gave him a reassuring smile, and Merlin let out a breath in relief at having caused no offence.

"You can take that off" the Prince then said suddenly, turning away. "Excuse me?" Arthur smiled. "Your jacket. I would prefer you in your shirt only for this. Will you undressing more be a problem? I read you've done kroki modelling in the past... I might want to do muscle studies later". "Oh" Merlin obediently took his jacket off. "No, no it wouldn't be. Yes, I have" "Good. Sit there, please" Merlin obediently took a seat as instructed, allowing the Prince to arrange him in a suitable manner. He did so softly, his hands warm and sure, and not unpleasant to be touched by.

Merlin was relaxing into the pose as the slightly older man started to set up and settle with his painting supplies. Unlike some painters he had worked with, he already felt safe with Arthur, and he was clearly very focused on his work. Judging by the other paintings around the studio, he also had an excellent hand.

"Do you mind" the Prince asked when Merlin took his third pose "that I feel your hair? I want to know its texture; it helps". "No, not at all" Merlin found himself growing increasingly comfortable with the setting. Arthur was soft-spoken and clearly intelligent, and obviously a very, very talented painter, he could bet on it just after seeing how he held the brushes. His eyes on him were professional, full of artistic interest and taking in every detail, but there was nothing there to make him uncomfortable.

The sun was already setting as Arthur had completed three paintings, several drawings and a whole slew of sketches. Merlin was starting to feel some new apprehension. It had been hours, and while he had changed pose several times, he had not had a break since they started. Nor had Arthur, of course, and the prince did not seem to need it, but Merlin was growing tired.

"Can you.." Arthur started, but Merlin cut him off, before he lost the nerve. "I'm sorry, Arthur. Do you mind if I take a short break? It is just..." "Oh!" Arthur looked up, his expression taken aback. "Of course! I'm sorry - I get so absorbed in painting, I forget. Of course you can".

He looked out towards the windows. "It is getting late, actually, the light is really too bad to continue for much longer. How about we call it a night? I have an outing tomorrow morning, but will you meet me here after lunch? And Merlin?" The Prince looked very serious, but not in any way unkind. "Tell me when you need a break".


	5. Meeting -You-

_And this is where the plot thickens! I claim no ownership of "Merlin", no copyright infringement is intended; this story is just for fun._

 _TapTap_

Uther looked at his son as they ate breakfast in the morning. Arthur seemed more relaxed this morning, and far less fidgety than he had been for weeks. Both the King and the Queen felt some relief at this, not having liked seeing their son unhappy and restless.

"So, how is your new model, Arthur?" Morgana asked, reaching for the toast, just as a few of Arthur's Knights poked their heads into the room. "He is great" Arthur smiled. "He has only one fault - he is so painfully polite. He doesn't stop me when I ask him to pose for far too long without breaks. I know I can be abrupt sometimes when painting, but hopefully he'll speak up for himself eventually... would you guys drop by and bother me occasionally, please?" "That, we certainly _can_ do" Gwaine grinned, making virtually everyone roll their eyes at him. Except, of course, the Queen, who only smiled slightly, and her ever-stoic husband.

The days quickly began to settle into a pattern after that. Merlin got time off whenever the Prince was busy, and as that was a lot of the time, Merlin enjoyed a lot of free time, even as he had to stay fairly close, as he had to appear within an hour of being summoned.

Arthur was easy to work with, if not easily pleased, and accomodating in many ways. He was always very clear with what he wanted, never inappropriate, and if Merlin needed to get undressed for the drawings the Prince made, he always made sure the room was pleasantly warm before he requested it. Merlin enjoyed working with him, to be honest, he was a good painter, and not unreasonable in his requests of his model.

Merlin had been Arthur's model for five weeks when the Knights all walked into the room Arthur had moved to in order to paint Merlin with a grand piano. Since it was easier to move them than the large instrument, and Queen Igraine always gave her blessing for her son to paint whereever he needed to in the castle, they had left the studio.

Merlin watched out of the corner of his eye as the Knights sat down to watch. Most of them were men, some of which had come to watch Arthur paint before, but there was a dark-haired, stunningly beautiful, slightly dangerous-looking woman amongst them. She was easily recognisable as the princess Morgana. There was one more woman with them, stunning in a completely different way which almost had Merlin turn his head an ruin the pose. Oh, she was pretty. He wondered who she was.

Arthur watched as Merlin seemed to grow increasingly less focused after his friends came into the room. Percival was there, Lancelot, Gwen - the two holding hands as always - as well as Morgana, Leon, Freya, Galahad and Gwaine. The latter had crashed into Arthur in the café of the same university where he met Galahad, completely drunk at two in the afternoon, and they had - strangely enough - been friends ever since. Life was strange.

Arthur refocused on Merlin and the piano, ignoring Gwaine's lewd jokes, same as Merlin seemed to do. The Prince held back a smile as he saw where the model's eyes were actually fixed. Freya had been visiting Island for a few weeks and was finally back home, intently studying the male model. Oh, the urge to smirk. Was this what Morgana felt like, all of the time? Looking back down on his easel with a half-hidden smile, Arthur just _knew_.


	6. I Can Learn Or He's Not So Stern

_So, here is another chapter. I hope you'll all like it! I claim no ownership of "Merlin", no copyright infringement is intended; this story is just for fun._

 _TapTap_

"Arthur." The Prince of Albion looked up from the book he was reading only to see his sister looking at him somewhat irrately. "Yes, Morgana?" "Oh, you oblivious men" she rolled her eyes. "I am not oblivious" Arthur responded before he looked back down into his book. "Freya and my model fancy each other, you are going to matchmake them, and I am going to do as I am being told, as I usually do when my sister looks at me like that. Did I miss anything?" He looked back up, to see a shadow of approval on her face. "Well, at least you learn" she sat down, doubtlessly to inform him of what his new duties were in whatever elegant scheme she had now come up with.

Morgana's elaborate plan started with breakfast, set with all the Knights and a romantic candle-lit setting. Unfortunately for her, unlike the men around them, Freya knew what she wanted, _and_ how to get it, so by the time she appeared for said breakfast, she did so trailed by a adorably sleepy/sheepish-looking Merlin.

"That's a good look for a painting", Arthur commented, to amusement (the knights), a murderous glare (Morgana) and a blush (Merlin).

"Have you ever painted him in the nude?" Freya asked as she sat down, reaching for the toast. "Can I have your sketches in that case?" Arthur chuckled but replied with all of the grace worthy of a prince. "Only once, actually. A muscle study... you wouldn't want it". "Pity" Freya replied, unbothered, while Merlin seemed like he wanted to sink through the floor. At least with the model's uncomfort, that gave Morgana the opportunity to help, and she set to work making him feel comfortable again with the ease of long habit and all the determination which would now only be wasted on her already abandoned plan.

The next few weeks, Freya often came into the studio, watching Arthur work and even posing with Merlin several times, just to get to touch him. "I have never painted a couple this way before" Arthur commented, as he sketched Freya and Merlin together, draped over a loveseat recently moved into the studio, for the purpose of this setup. "I have painted both Morgana with Leon, Lancelot and Gwen, and my parents several times, but those were all proper portraits, not a scene like this".

"You painted your exes like this though, didn't you?" Freya commented, her head resting against Merlin's half-naked chest, as he was wearing his shirt mostly unbottoned. "Sophia, yes" Arthur replied. "Nimue was always alright with me sketching, supportive even, and allowed me to paint her when she slept, but she never had much patience to sit for me, so it was all a very occasional thing".

"Where is she now?" Freya asked with interest. "In Sidney, last I heard" he replied. "Nimue and Arthur were a pair years ago, ever since school, but she left to go travel the world, experience things" Freya explained to Merlin, who hadn't moved during their conversation, as he was a professional model, after all, but certainly was curious anyway. "You're still friends though Arthur, aren't you?" "Yes" the Prince replied, smiling, eyes on his painting. "I still love her, just maybe not... you know, like _that_ ".

"At least she was better than Sophia" Lancelot had appeared at the door, apparently there to check in on them. Perhaps on orders from Morgana, or even the Queen, as she usually liked to keep an eye on that Arthur didn't overwork himself, or lately, Merlin. " _No one_ liked _her_ ". "I _knew_ she was a gold-digger, I just thought that... well" Arthur shrugged, wiping a paintbrush clean on a piece of cloth. "It was something honest about it though. I wanted someone who let me paint them, she wanted to be on the arm of royalty. We both wanted something from each other, and neither one of us was in love. It was just a sort of... _thing_ ".

"What a hopeless romantic" Freya noted ironically, only to get a reprimand from Arthur, as the comment was finally what was too much and made Merlin snicker. "Sorry" the happy couple said in unison, making Lancelot chuckle and roll his eyes fondly.

"Is there a reason for you to come into my studio, Lance?" Arthur looked up, eyebrow raised. "Yeah, actually" the man replied "a couple of us were thinking of going out for a ride. Late, after sunset. It was Gwen's idea" his expression immediately grew fond, just by thinking about her. "You're envited as well, Freya. Merlin".

"I'd love to come. Do you ride, Merlin?" Freya chirped, with her very own brand of gentle enthusiasm. "Not really" the model's tone was excusing, though he tried to keep the expression off his face. " We were going to have some supper in the old folly down by the lake" Lancelot cut in. "The King and Queen are going to join us. They'll drive there".

"That's settled, then" Freya rested her head more firmly to Merlin's chest, without actually moving much, and Lancelot moved to leave, knowing Arthur well enough to know that he was tired of the interruptions. "At eight, Freya" he added, getting an affirming murmur from Freya. "I will see you at the stables at eight" the prince confirmed by the time he reached the door.

Merlin walked through the castle hallways after finishing modelling for Arthur, as the light got bad when the day wore on. He blinked as he saw a painting featuring himself, seated by a table with lit candles, the scene set by Queen Igraine. He would never get used to walking through a palace, seeing pictures of himself hanging on the walls. It was so odd the word didn't even fit the occasion.

As far as oddity was concerned, it was only about to get worse, as he was going to ride in the same car with the Queen and King Uther later on that evening, as neither of them wanted to ride, and Merlin had yet to learn to. Though now that Freya and her bunch of Knighted friends knew that he did not know how, he had little doubt that they'd teach him, whether he'd like to learn or not, if he knew them right. He didn't mind, if he was honest with himself, in fact, he found that there was a smile on his face.


	7. Welcome Home

_So, this is suddenly the last chapter, yes, I know, it surprised me too. I would love some imput on what you think of the story. I claim no ownership of "Merlin", no copyright infringement is intended; this story is just for fun._

 _TapTap_

Melin had rarely ever been as nervous as when he walked out in front of the castle to meet King Uther and Queen Igraine. "Ah, there you are dear" the Queen greeted him as she stepped out the main entrance a minute later with her husband. The car was already waiting conveniently, but there was no driver. Apparently, the King had opted to drive himself.

Getting into the backseat nervously, Merlin hoped it wasn't far. Surely it couldn't be if the others were riding there? He was broken out of his thoughts by a kind chuckle from Queen Igraine, as he husband started the car. "No need to look so worried, dear. We are not all that dangerous. Not after Uther has his first coffee of the morning, anyway".

"It is evening" the King pointed out, less harshly than Merlin had expected, never really having had a conversation with Arthur's father before. "I have had lots of coffee today". Startled by the realisation that the King was actually _joking_ , Merlin gave a short, nervous laugh. Uther looked at him approvingly in the rearview mirror. "That's better. I don't bite, you know".

After that, the Queen quickly cut in with questions about his work with Arthur, sparing Merlin from having to reply to that comment. After a short ride at a well maintained but small road, Uther stopped and they got out of the car, the King leading the way to a well-lit folly, set up for an evening meal, doubtlessly by some servants who had driven there earlier. The others were already there, too, horses grazing some ways away, Freya looking spectacular as she was laughing in the candlelight. Catching sight of her, Merlin actually stopped and stared, but Queen Igraine was kind enough to gently nudge him along before anyone else noticed them.

Quickly drawn into the cirkle of friends by lancelot and the ever-joking Gwaine, Merlin soon found himself seated between Freya and Gwen's brother, listening to Leon (somewhat reluctantly) relay some gossip on the request (orders) of Morgana.

Merlin had gotten to know most of them through his weeks as Arthur's model and Freya's boyfriend, and he felt more comfortable in this setting than he thought he would, when Lance invited him to come with them.

It felt strangely natural somehow, to sit in an old folly with a bunch of Knights from all over the world, a royal family consisting of a Princess just as scary as her public image was sweet, an apparently not so stern King and a very gracious Queen, and a Prince who just wanted to be left with his easels most of the time. A Prince, he realised with a sense of unrealism, who was quickly becoming one of Merlin's best friends.

It was as he was sitting there, surrounded by these people who were strangers mere months ago, that he suddenly realised it. Those faces, lit by candles, he saw all around him, was not those of only his new girlfriend's friends, but his as well, and Merlin suddenly knew that he wasn't going to ever go back.

He had come to Albion with the full expectation of leaving again, probably quite soon, relocating somewhere entirely new probably, but in that moment it hit him that he was never going to, and more, that he didn't want to.

This was home now, this was where he belonged, these people, so different but so warm, were the people he belonged with. He silently looked around the table as Igraine told a funny story about her husband, years before the rest of them were even born, the King not even pretending to disapprove.

He realised he knew these faces now, that he could recognise the likely reaction of all of them. Freya laughing in that honest, beautiful way of hers. Arthur sniggering over his meal, Leon trying to be appropriate, Percival just eating and smiling. Morgana with that scary, all-knowing expressiopn, leaning on Leon, perhaps for warmth.

They were all part of Merlin's life now, and he would never want anything else. Somehow, they had become family to him. Even Gwaine, with his constant defiance of everything even close to normality or soft-spokenness. Merlin smiled warmly as he laid an arm around Freya, even happier when she immediately leaned into him. Finally, at long last, Merlin had found his way home.


End file.
